


I Know Who I Married

by starkidpatronus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Molly are very happy, but that doesn't mean that their relationship doesn't come with certain...unique difficulties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know Who I Married

**Author's Note:**

> I am lowkey Mollstrade trash, and for the past few days, I've just been really into them for some reason. *Fingers crossed for S4 canon!!!*  
> Thus, I've been thinking about what it would be like if they were married, and the challenges they might face as a couple. This is one of them that really got me.  
> Title is taken from "That Would Be Enough" by Lin-Manuel Miranda, from the "Hamilton: An American Musical" soundtrack.  
> Unbeta'd and not Brit-picked, so feel free to point out mistakes!  
> Hope you enjoy!

                It is eleven thirty-three when Greg Hooper-Lestrade and Molly Hooper-Lestrade charge through the door of their apartment. Well, more accurately, Greg is the one who does the charging, Molly the trailing after.

                “Greg, who _cares_ what she says,” Molly implores Greg, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck.

                “ _I_ do,” Greg insists, undoing his stiff tie harshly.

                “But _why?_ ” Molly asks, unbuttoning her coat.

                “Because she’s _right_ ,” Greg answers, taking Molly’s coat from her and hanging it in the closet by the front door.

                “ _I_ don’t think so,” Molly points out, placing her hands on her chest to emphasize herself as the subject who matters.

                “That’s because, Molly,” Greg says, striding past her to sit on the sofa in front of the coffee table, “you’re too sweet and—”

                “If you call me naïve,” she cuts him off with a warning, “I’ll kill you.”

                “I wasn’t going to say—”

                “Yes, you were.”

                “ _No_ , I _wasn’t_.”

                “Then what _were_ you going to say?”

                “I was going to say that you’re too sweet and _understanding_.”

                “Oh.” Molly’s hands fall from where they were placed on her hips. “Well, that’s better, then.” She sits down in the armchair to the left of where Greg is sitting on the couch.

                “God, I just—” Greg shakes his head morosely, shoulders hunched as he stares blankly down at the coffee table. “I must look like such a creep.”

                “Why do you care so much what strangers think of you?”

                “Because strangers are good markers for societal standards,” Greg replies, “which we are not exactly upholding here, Molly.”

                “We’re a happy married couple, Greg,” Molly counters. “How is that _not_ upholding societal standards?”

                “You know what I mean,” Greg waves her off. “And what _she_ meant.”

                “I just don’t get why you care so much,” Molly states, clueless and shaking her head as she peers at Greg.

                “And I don’t get how you _don’t_ care so much!” Greg retorts. “Molly, how does it not bother you to be seen in public with an older man?”

                “Well, for starters, because I know that man is _great_ in bed,” Molly replies humorously. Greg does huff out a small laugh at that, but then his serious stature returns as he looks at his wife with raised eyebrows. Molly merely shrugs. “I just—It doesn’t matter to me what they think, because I know what kind of man you are—”

                “An old one.”

                “A _good_ one,” Molly corrects pointedly. “And I know what we have. And I know that it’s beautiful and not at all something to be ashamed of. So that jealous middle-aged woman can make whatever remarks she likes, and I’ll just feel sorry for her bitter soul.”

                “Jealous?” Greg checks. “You think she’s jealous _?_ ”

                “Of course!” Molly exclaims like it’s obvious. “For one thing, I got the silver fox detective inspector and all she got was her beer-belly golf-playing cigarette-smoking husband. _And_ of how obviously happy we are together.”

                Greg shakes his head, smiling. He reaches out and interweaves his fingers with Molly’s, still looking down at the ground and shaking his head. “How is it you always know just what to say?”

                “I’m a doctor,” Molly says easily. “I know bedside manner.”

                Greg laughs fully at that, throwing his head back and guffawing loudly. Molly just smiles at her husband, giggling softly. Greg settles down, taking a deep breath, his thumb running back and forth along the back of Molly’s hand.

                “I love you,” he says, the truth of his words etched on his face as he looks at her.

                “I love you, too.” She smiles, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his lightly. “I’m going to bed. Join me in a few, okay?”

                “All right.” Greg nods. Molly smiles at him once more, then rises from her seat and makes her way to the bedroom.

                Greg sighs, sitting back in the sofa cushions for a moment, still recuperating from the day’s events. Of course, he’s happy for Sherlock and John, which is the main thing; it was _their_ wedding after all. It’s lucky that the remark hadn’t come until late in the evening, so that it didn’t ruin the joyfulness of the day for him.

                He thinks back to John’s last wedding, remembering how he’d sat beside Molly there, too, only things were so much different back then. Because Molly had been so irresistibly close, close enough for Greg to reach out and take her hand if he’d been so inclined, but she was also completely inaccessible because of the ring on her finger. Thus, Greg was flooded with hopeless longing that he thought he’d never get to resolve.

                He shakes his head at the past, smiling. He knew, of course, that Sherlock had been in the same position as himself at that time, and he wonders for a moment why he never reached out to the consulting detective. Then he remembers that Sherlock is Sherlock, which answers that question quickly enough. Still, some sharing in the suffering might have been nice.

                Oh, if only he’d known back then—

                “Greg!” Molly’s voice comes from the other side of the bedroom door.

                “Yes, dear?” Greg, knocked out of his introspection, calls back.

                “I need help taking off this dress!” Molly calls. “And then I need help taking off what’s underneath it!”

                Greg laughs heartily, shaking his head. How he, a divorced forty-three year-old, won the jackpot, he’ll never know. He stands up from the sofa, stretches, and says, “’Coming!”

                “Well, Christ, that was early,” Molly replies. “’You sure you’re not secretly fourteen and I’m committing some kind of crime?”

                “I sure hope not,” Greg says evenly, stepping into the bedroom. “I’d have to use the authority of the law on you.”

                “Well then.” Molly grins, stepping into Greg’s space and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don’t be shy, detective.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! Thank you for reading; do leave a comment telling me what you liked, didn't like, and might want for any future writing I do for this pairing!


End file.
